Love Live Life

  The flowery dress, her hair tied in the vintage way… She looked like a spitting image of her mother they say… She walked down the stairs, in an elegant manner… all eyes where on her, some with pride, some with jealous and other that of lust… They sat under a tree, the moonless sky full of stars. How close she was to everyone and yet so far… There he came, holding two glasses of wine, it was a dream that had turned to reality or the reality that was dissolving into a dream… He handed her a glass of wine… where everything looked fine… but, nothing was. The butterflies where out of her stomach and above her head.  She wanted him to hold her and kiss her so, from this place they cloud fade… How beautiful was this moment… yet she knew they were just the tenant… of this present and these events will be memories without a sonnet… The conversation began among the group. She wants to be with him alone but, she has to be here so that she can be with him… they talked with t...

  Why everything right turns out at the wrong time… What is the reason of this life, where which way to turn only comes up when we have lost the path… We lie, we do not regret, all our memories are nothing but those regrets. Which haunt us. Which we latter live in our imagination. Like those dark clouds, comes a feeling where nothing is worth, and everything is absurd. Where comes an understanding that being with self is the last man standing. Where comes a notion that we are not suitable for any human relation. Nothing is correct around us, yet we are that posture of imperfectness. Nothing is known what has come up, how these situations are formed and what from? A cage of self-imprisonment, where rudeness, ignorance is the only sent. Such are the way that these feelings could not be vent out. They linger, hover, and sometimes become grave than ever. Is this because of the change in the way sky has come up? Is this because of the way sun hides now? Or because of those chi...

“How am I looking?” were the words which came out of her mouth after a long silent walk. Tying her hairs, she asked him to hold her phone and clutch… He knew it was coming… Every time she asks, he do not say anything why? What is he thinking…? Maybe picking the right words to make a perfect sentence for her…     How can he say how she looked…? With every shade of light, how she reflected beauty in each sight. She never looked as beautiful as she looked the day, he first saw her… rather her beauty compounded, got multiplied with every second that they were together… Since the day he saw her… the sleepless nights which he had with her… where she was in his dreams, yet it was so real… No matter what she worn, how expensive, trendy, beautiful it might be, it was the beauty of hers which reflected in those attire… How naïve she might be knowing everything about everyone but not knowing the things which he did only for her… How she never saw the truth in his eyes among all...

“How am I looking?” were the words which came out of her mouth after a long silent walk. Tying her hairs, she asked him to hold her phone and clutch… The question was less of the inquiry and was more in the fury that why the answer was delay – delayed not after she had asked but why is the compliment never came till now… Question arose within her whether how she really looked good…? With a bit of confusion over her own looks and attire which was now evaporating into the clouds of anger… Looking into every possible glass which reflected her… where she looked at her herself but peeked at him through it… She was waiting, still for the reply, has he forgotten, she had asked something…? Has he even looked at her…? What exactly she was wearing…? What wrong with saying that you looked beautiful… such a fool… People walking in the opposite direction dint missed a chance to check her out, boys where fine… but even girls…! Had a look of contempt, with jealousy which she knew well… whic...

  Nothing will change, the dates will start in the same way, in the same order, the days might differ… we will have the same life that we suffer… For some, troubles might have started, for some, they might be at the peak and for some it might be dissolving from the heap… Should we leave everything on destiny, on fate and dwell on the self-ignorance and live in hate… where world around us is way ahead and we on the other hand even on death bed are late… Not a philosopher, not a think tank yet with our own thoughts each time we sank… Falling below even of the bottom, the pile up cluster among the rank. The words which you are on, are not about beautification, satisfaction, or motivation. These words are not the filtered images rather a clear picture of a mirror. The words beyond a pep talk, not a hopeful walk and beyond the stalk of notification. Don’t hope for the best, don’t dwell among the rest… don’t compare in a jest… these days are not about heist… with self. We don’t...